#oh god it's long sorry

[gongyussy]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[four-pointed-leaf]

happy pride month

[canine-economy]

Daisuke’s Death and the Invisible Abuse of “Privileged” Children

tw: extensive discussions of child emotional abuse

Another mouthwashing text analysis before I post any polished art? Shocker. But I really really appreciate the reception on my Swansea post, especially as a new account! This Daisuke-centric analysis is gonna be a quick one (< this was a lie. long read ahead!) but he is a character who resonates deeply personally with me as a victim of abuse that looked very much like his own. I do plan on doing a larger analysis of his character, but the abridged version necessary for this piece goes as follows:

Daisuke’s treatment in the narrative—both his implied home life and Jimmy’s taking advantage of him to go into the vent—is another one of this game’s excellent portrayals of normalized (and thus invisibilized) abuse. Children are often cited as one of the most vulnerable classes of people, if not the most vulnerable (I acknowledge that Daisuke is not a child, but Mouthwashing implies that this narrative of his inadequacy has persisted throughout his upbringing and, to this day, he is dictated tasks and lacks independence, treated like a dependent. His youth is also an undisputed feature of his character and, most importantly, the cast treats him like a kid). Children’s dependency on adults and our willingness as a society to accept that the adults in their lives provide the most objective perspective on these young people renders them particularly prone to abuse easily swept under the rug or “justified” by wardens who possess the power to dictate the narrative. Jimmy’s engagement with Daisuke is an extension of the latter’s vulnerability. The co-pilot’s assertion that “he’ll be fine (…) mommy and daddy have him covered” at the birthday party represents a deference to Daisuke’s parents as adequate caretakers who will ensure his longevity and comfort on the basis of their wealth. And we know that Daisuke’s parents think the same—the Q&As reveal that they believe they are doing the best to secure their son a good future. However, the same Q&As indicate that they don’t actually engage with or understand Daisuke’s interests and that their approach to parenting him is entirely understood through their personal beliefs, not those of their son. And Daisuke clearly carries that quite close to his heart. He seems to struggle with identity and acceptance, seeking validation in the form of praise. Daisuke is defined through what he can do for others and not what he independently brings to the table, because that has never mattered where he grew up. The consequences of his parents’ failure to meet his emotional needs ultimately conditioned Daisuke to be perfectly available to be taken advantage of in a corporate setting defined by capitalist attitudes and hierarchies.

While it’s not concrete to say that Daisuke grew up in an emotionally abusive household, it is most important that we cannot dismiss the possibility and that his behavior as the outcome of some obvious degree of neglect is well-aligned with this theory. Moreover, the young man who comes out of that household is easily targeted by Jimmy’s abusive tendencies as a direct result of what he internalizes growing up. Daisuke is apparently financially well-off (contextually we can’t be sure if Daisuke’s family is upper class, middle class, or somewhere in between), and with that comes privilege. Even the way he packs—multiple personalized outfits, entertainment devices, etc—reveal that he’s used to certain comforts and hasn’t yet acclimated to the harsh expectations of companies like the Pony Express. But, especially where young people are concerned, it is all too easy to allow this privilege to act as a curtain between abuse and the outside world. We can acknowledge the privilege and also recognize that it benefits his parents much more than it benefits him as a young person.

Emotional abuse is complex and extremely damaging and Daisuke *does* show symptoms of at least being constantly verbally accosted and emotionally neglected by his parents to the point of permanently warping his sense of self. It also generated his overreliance on authority figures to tell him how to keep himself safe in their world. His mother apparently insulted him to his face (“such a slacker, she said”, and being reprimanded for being too talkative [from the Daisuke teaser]), and a lot of his negative self talk (“total screw-up”, “fuck up”, etc) is reminiscent of how people define themselves by parroting what they are called after internalizing consistent externally-imposed definitions of their identity. While these are not surefire indicators of abuse and I am not willing to diagnose a situation as abusive purely predicated on these factors, the behaviors Daisuke exhibits as a result share many commonalities with those of victims of childhood abuse. In fact, just about every time Daisuke speaks about himself in Mouthwashing, he mentions his failures and his work. It’s not lost on me that the teaser for the whole character is him pondering his mother and how she might not recognize him if he isn’t noisy and obnoxious. He personally puts a lot of stock in their assessment of him as lazy and annoying, but nevertheless tries to accomplish learning through the internship. Furthermore, Daisuke takes on a lot of his mother’s pain, hoping she doesn’t blame herself for the negative things that happen to him (even though in the same scene he reveals that she’s the reason he’s on the stranded Tulpar at all), indicating that he has taken responsibility for the feelings of people in his life even when those people are not his to care for and even bear responsibility for his pain.

Now in young adulthood, Daisuke rarely seems to have any sense of self beyond his parents and his work aside from one-off quips about baseball and babes. It suggests that he has always had to prioritize his parents’ desires growing up to avoid being treated unfairly and even cruelly, stunting his self-discovery. In abusive situations, your understanding of safety and your pursuit thereof are radically impacted and we see this manifest in Daisuke’s continuing willingness to accept those in command as the pinnacle of safety over what one might consider logical, personal acts of self-preservation. He equates safety with obedience, and I contend that that equivalence suggests a lot about how his parents reprimanded deviance from their plans. And not to be that guy, but it is kind of outright cruel to dump your utterly inexperienced teenager-to-early-20-something on a 1 year, no contact, unsafe space voyage in a failing industry knowing that he doesn’t have the necessary skillset yet. That’s what his parents do when they aren’t satisfied with his progress, and it’s intense and disproportionate and alarming! Especially for the dependent! They toss him into the deep end of the corporate machine and insist he learns to swim in such an oppressive, stifling atmosphere. It’s no surprise that he drowns, especially when he himself can’t recognize this as an unrealistic expectation and tackles it with everything he’s got because his parents are theoretically always right about what he needs. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that normalized emotional abuse from the home and how it maps onto a victim’s adult life is a topic Mouthwashing would endeavor to touch on, because visibilizing invisible abuses of power in heteropatriarchal capitalist schemes is arguably the central undertaking of the game.

I don’t think Daisuke has evil parents or anything, rather that what we accept as “good parenting” and “good mentorship” is often negligent with regard to emotional needs and can easily become a source of heavy trauma for the children and mentees if that emotional aspect is stretched too thin in the pursuit of success. Not all abuse is intentional, and the dev Q&As imply that Daisuke’s parents thought they were sincerely investing in his future. They cared, just not in the best way for his wellbeing. Because capitalism emphasizes the individualistic pursuit of success above all else, it’s no wonder that a parent would think that the best thing they can give their kid is an avenue to prosper financially. But in doing so, Daisuke’s parents deny him the opportunity to define himself, to experience agency, and to build up confidence. Effectively, they create a young man so vulnerable to abuse by higher-ups (a manifestation of abuse that is often intentional at the systemic level) that he decides to climb into that vent at Jimmy’s discretion under the pretense that he will make somebody proud. Because that’s how Daisuke has been raised to understand himself and his place—the presumed screw-up boy as a default, making you proud by doing the right thing, who has learned to pursue that achievement to avoid the condescension and disproportionate backlash (e.g. the internship itself) that comes with failure. Everything circles back to his parents’ expectations that he makes for a good worker. When the cocktail knocks Swansea out, Daisuke makes an offhand comment about getting a bad reference—even in the most dire of circumstances, he can’t stop thinking about their capitalistic expectations for his “good” future.

I find that Daisuke really is such a good subtle portrayal of how parents with resources can get away with emotionally stunting their children because we perceive their ability to put a roof over their heads, food on their plate, etc as adequate parenting and even a privilege for the child when it should be the bare minimum. Jimmy certainly buys into it, and even some of the fandom parrots that, really and truly believing Daisuke is some good-for-nothing kid who doesn’t try hard when all we see is him working, including climbing into the vents to try and help despite not being assigned the work (foam scene, not his death). I find this reception shows how inclined we are to accept those narratives of the privileged child’s inadequacy before we address the parent for not fulfilling a child’s emotional needs, which are just as important if not more than the material.

To wrap this up with a quick discussion of the symbolism of his death in the context of the emotional abuse of children (which is the reason I made this whole post but I can’t talk about this guy without going off): Daisuke getting so badly injured trying to do what’s right is a very physical manifestation of the suffering he was already going through. It is the pain of constantly people-pleasing and of holding it all in when he’s lashed out at. He gets injured at all in the pursuit of appeasing Jimmy and (theoretically) Swansea, both of whom he blindly trusts despite how they treat him because he has always been expected to just adhere to the adults with authority in his life. Being talked down to by them is not new and has never been a reason to question their judgement. Daisuke sees this as a product of his own inadequacy as implied by other people, and not of external cruelty. He was raised not to question the system for fear of repercussions.

Jimmy is perfectly situated to coerce him into a dangerous situation because Daisuke has never been taught to say no. The safest option for a scared child is to trust their mentors, and an adult Daisuke does just that. Even Swansea’s teachings of safety are dismantled by Jimmy’s tactical use of captainhood to break the camel’s back. Authority. Daisuke must always listen to authority. Jimmy knows the vent isn’t safe. Swansea tells him directly and he observes the foam incident (if from a distance). For as much as he acts like he cares about taking responsibility for Daisuke’s safety, his individualistic pursuit of “fixing” things manifests in Jimmy again taking advantage of a vulnerable person on the ship. Jimmy doesn’t reconcile Daisuke’s eagerness to help with lessons on safety like Swansea does, but rather uses it only when it benefits him. Daisuke is taught by his upbringing to accept this kind of treatment—for safety, defer to the leader in the room even if it hurts and you don’t want to do it (just like he didn’t want to be on the Tulpar in the first place).

Then, once the intern is out of the vent and mortally wounded, Jimmy applies the mouthwash (a product to be sold, hauled in the interest of the corporation) to “help” sanitize the wounds. But the sugar content negates medical utility and only worsens the pain. We can interpret this as the application of material privilege, “sweetness”, that wasn’t actually any help at all to solve the deep wounds left by emotional pains. Mouthwash rids you of the bad taste but doesn’t kill all the underlying germs. One could argue further that in this scene, the mouthwash is specifically representative of the Pony Express internship: a rare stepping stone in the corporate hustle gained through privilege and presented as a boon. Like the mouthwash, the internship is imposed on Daisuke to try and “help” him succeed and be better, but it only elevates the pain by irritating the wounds and ends in his agonizing demise. However, this fine-tuned comparison isn’t necessary to my point. I find the broad implications of the mouthwash as an antiseptic immensely representative of parents and caretakers who don’t seem abusive to the outside world but who are actually subversively hurting their children and ultimately conditioning them to be victimized by capitalist attitudes. Our deference to material comforts and corporate opportunities as indicators of wellness renders us blind to where caretakers fail to address the emotional needs of young people. At the end of the day, Daisuke is still killed by the values his parents have instilled in him. It’s always the “captain’s” (literal or figurative) orders that seal the deal and cut off any of his autonomous doubt or dictation (for example, his desire to listen to Swansea and not go in the vent). His parents’ symbolic and saccharine gestures mean very little in the scheme of creating a person who can survive the pressures of the “real world” when malicious actors (JIMMY.) and the capitalist enterprise as a whole bear down on the cracks of an emotionally taxing youth.

A/N: Maybe I’m thinking about all of this too hard, but the beauty of Mouthwashing is that I’m never quite sure that’s the case as this game feels so deliberate. Anyway, as somebody who has clinically diagnosed PTSD stemming from childhood, this has always been a really important analysis to posit and I finally found the time to put it into words. I feel like Daisuke as a symbol is often overlooked by the fandom. He’s enjoyed, yes, but not really broken down like the others are. That diminishing of his importance and his feelings about the situation also feels like a symptom of his age. But that’s neither here nor there—like I said, I believe I could do a much more in-depth analysis of Daisuke as a victim of subtle abuse but this will have to do for now. A lot of my major points have been made, anyway! Perhaps video format would be best for something longer-form. 🌺

[ewwww-what]

The moment when you find exactly what you were looking for (it was your best friend the whole time)

(close-ups below & my commission info)

[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

I’m so far down this spiral oh my God.

You’re Solas. You’ve had an existence of tragedy and pain and just… awful. So much awful. You’ve been hurt and you’ve hurt. You’ve ended the world. You had to. You never wanted this. You never wanted a body or to leave the Fade or to exist in this way. You wanted to be Wisdom.

Your friend branded you as a slave. She said you aren’t but… Why would she do such a thing? You try not to think about it.

Your friend convinced you to extinguish the magic and spark of an entire race. And you do it. And you’re sick. You’re sick and you can’t get well. But… it was what your friend wanted. And you loved her and… isn’t this how you love people?

She dies. You warned her, you begged her and she still… and they killed her. Her own family killed her. You’re rage. Rage and grief and you have to do something. Vengeance. Her blood calls out for it. And yours does too. The lyrium in your very bones sings for it.

And then it’s all… dead. Gone. Imprisoned. You’re nearly dead yourself. And so you sleep. For so very long, you sleep.

But now you’re walking the in the millennium aftermath of it all. You know you’re becoming something rotten not too long into this fight. Felassan fails. You don’t care about why. You don’t listen to him. Your rage rises up and you strike him.

And you’re truly alone now.

Perhaps you should’ve always been.

So you bear down and while you lack much of your former power… you find you aren’t above acquiring a tool for the job.

This admittedly horrible plan messes all the way up trying to fix what you’ve done and an innocent Dalish woman gets caught in the crossfire, one of the people who whom you’re hoping to return themselves, and now she’s got a piece of the Veil stuck in her hand.

Great. Well. Time to try to fix this enormous mess and refuse to admit that if you go through with your ultimate goal, the whole world’s going to look like this.

And then you start to fall for this woman. Not only is she a firebrand of simple goodness and kindness, she’s quite kind to you. She reaches out to you for wisdom and advice and talks with you, not at you. When you reach back to her, she meets you in the middle and tries her very best to understand. And then she protects you with the flimsy, unstable shield that your own mistake s have branded her with. She protects you in this world that hates elves and mages and apostate elven mages even more.

Your friend is bound and corrupted and she runs off to the Exalted Plains to help them. She weeps at your side as you grieve. She gives you space and then when you come back, she welcomes you with gladness. She tells you if ever you must grieve again, she’d like to be there.

She kisses you.

And you clutch her into your arms, and then again, because you suddenly realize your entire being has been yearning to touch and be touched by her for so long. You’ve never experienced anything like this. It’s intoxicating and agony and fire and the very air you need to breathe.

You are tempted to run but… you’d be without her. And you ask her to just sit and talk and she obliges, happily. She enjoys you. This mortal creature who you’ve branded with doom; she enjoys you.

You then start to wonder: has she always been this way? Maybe the Mark’s done something to her? Maybe it’s done something to me too; maybe it’s why I can’t stay away from her. So you ask and she just “mm. No, I’m me.” And you’re so incandescent about this that you shock yourself.

You tell her you’ve not forgotten the kiss. And she smiles like the dawn rising over the mountains. And you try to leave. “It would be kinder in the long run.” But she bids you stay…

You can’t fit her inside your body. But you try. You keep your hands from clawing their way into her clothes and skin but your arms lock around her like they were made to do that, and only that. You want to protect her too. You want to leave it all. You want to be Solas and her to be a simple Dalish woman and to live in the quiet woods with her and dance under the stars.

You get to. At Halamshiral, you draw her into your arms and dance until you forget you have feet and until the music is long abandoned to the sounds of night.

She does something so incredibly stupid at the Well. You want to claw your face off because she’s agreeing to what you did. She’s signing away her freedom… but then she tells you “I’ll use this to help this world as best I can”. And you feel… so seen by a person who can’t possibly see…

You will tell her. You’ll tell her everything. But when you stand in Crestwood, in the ruins of everything you did to get here… you can’t. You panic and you lie in that true way you have so it isn’t a lie but it isn’t what you meant to say. She lets you remove her culture, erase herself from who the people have become. She’s like you now. And oh whatever gods there be, she’s so beautiful that you feel like you could stare into her eyes for eternity… but… what have you done?

You’ve taken from her something she didn’t truly want to give up. You’ve made her change because you wanted her to. You’ve enforced your will on someone you told, you loved them. You’re Solas… you’re not Mythal.

You will not do this to her.

So you do then what you can only conclude is right by her. You break her heart and you break your own and there is somehow a worse pain than anything you’ve suffered before. She’s right there. All you need do it extend a hand, whisper one word. And the awful part, you’re so in love with her. You can’t help but watch her steps and listen for her voice and…

You need to leave.

You do. And you get to work. Two years crawl by. And you have your ear out for her still. It’s all part of the plan you tell yourself but you just want to keep a tether there in some form and you know you do.

Seeing her again is like falling on a spear. Shes dying. You knew she would. You knew she’d come too, curious and determined as ever. But you didn’t expect to hear her scream in pain and collapse in front of you. You go to your knees with her. You… you have to kiss her. Just one more. And you save her… you take her arm.

She tells you your love will endure and you could howl in anguish. She still loves you?! After all this? After what you’ve done? You watch the Fade bleed from her body. You ache to gather her up and take her with you. She even asked to go with you. But you know what the Evanuris were in their determined goals… what you’ll be by the time you’re done. Let her remember you as Solas… the apostate mage with stories and paint under his nails, who loved her helplessly.

You will not allow her to become another Felassan.

Eight years pass and while you’re at work, deeply committed, restless in your plans… she isn’t gone from you. Your sleep betrays you and you find yourself watching her. You watch her call out and search for you. You watch yourself, a dream, meet her and touch her and your mind burns with the hunger for just the brush of her hand. You listen to her weep over choices she made that haunt her, and you’re unable to comfort her. You can feel her terror as nightmares assail her, and if you weren’t a wolf in this form, you’d scream. You feel mad when you wake, tortured and raw and you’d run to her… but then you redouble your abstinence. Like opening a vein, you let the urge to drop everything and go find your Dalish heart and put her in your ribs where she belongs and never let her out. The truest horror of it all is she knows you’re there in all this. She can see you. She can see you refusing her, over and over and over. Ignoring her nightmares of being Blighted, ripped apart by Terrors and Shades, staring while she mourns the fallen who she sent to their deaths.

You’re a monster.

But then it’s all going to happen. Finally. And you don’t even feel energized by it. You simply think of her. You write almost automatically, as if your hand has a mind of its own. You tell her everything you wanted to scream in her dreams. Everything you wanted to in Crestwood.

Varric dies. No. No. You kill Varric.

You use Rook’s blood to make them see him. They loved him. He loved them. It’s… so cruel.

You’re a monster.

You repeat that to yourself on the steps in Minrathous. You’re barely able to keep your feet, your ribs feel pulped from the dragon’s teeth. Your skin feels hot and wet under your armor. You’re bleeding, so much so that you can taste it in your breath. The Blight burns on your lips. Your eye is blurred over with blood salt and tears.

And out of the night a voice speaks up to you that steals every single ounce of focus from your exhausted mind. You stare at her. She’s coming closer. “I forgive you!” she cries, her face pleading that you listen. She’s unarmed. She knows you killed Varric and she knows you could kill her. She knows you might. You can see it in the way she moves, the way her hands open at her sides as she moves closer.

Felassan’s face swims in your mind.

Please don’t you want to sob. Don’t make me hurt you. I’m a monster; I told you I didn’t want you to see me like this. So you try to explain again. To find some purchase on your own logic as to why this is still something you should do. Something she should allow. You look away, and you almost sigh in relief. She’s too bright; your eyes aren’t worthy of the sight of her anyway. You’ve hurt that woman so many times. And she’s still speaking of forgiveness?! FOR YOU?!

Morrigan?

Mythal.

You almost fall to your knees in front of her spirit. You can’t tell what the feeling is. Despair? Fear? Worship? Maybe all of them. But she tells you your sins are hers too. She took you from your home, twisted you… broke you. And you feel something slide off of you that somehow doesn’t make you stand straighter. You’re sick again. You’re collapsing. You’re a ruined wall, the last piece of a derelict castle on a crumbling mountain, and you’re giving way.

“Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

Mythal said that she broke you. Your being admits it. You weep, bowed, humbled… but free. You didn’t know you were shackled. But now that the chains are off, you feel it now. The chafed wounds where they’ve been locked for centuries. The sudden lack of weight that leaves you trembling and weak in its absence. You don’t remember them not being there.

But you do remember when you were able to ignore them. You remember how the Dalish woman refused to allow bigotry and hatred stop her from saving the world. You remember how she ran herself ragged for people who didn’t even care if she lived. You remember how she called them innocent.

You decide, or you are finally able to decide, that you want and perhaps have always wanted, to be like her.

So you shed your blood, not that you aren’t bleeding enough already, to ensure you’re bound to the Veil. Your life is its life.

“I will go and seek atonement.” You look into her eyes, as long as you can stand it. You hope she’ll be proud of you for finally being the hero she believed you could be. She looks back… so very beautiful. But no. No you’re not allowed to even think about that marvelous, bright creature like that.

“But you do not have to go alone.”

The touch of her hands makes you want to collapse. One of metal and wood, one of flesh and bone. She gives them both to you. Dumbly, you look at them. You’re touching her. This divine, unearthly thing is smiling at you, speaking to you. Holding your bloody, murderous, betrayer’s hands in hers. Your’s tremble and bleed. Her’s do not.

But what did she say? You don’t have to- No. No, Vhenan. Into that place? Into that prison? To war with madness and agony for eternity? No. You can’t…

“Ar ghilas vir banal.” You feel your heart crack and shatter as you say it. You’ll have to walk away from her again. You’ll have to leave her again. You’ll have to be alone, sundered from even her dreams… it’s what you deserve. And she deserves to be free of you. Finally.

But she just… keeps smiling. Her grip on your hands tightens. With a little shake of her head and a fondness on her face that you can’t begin to even fathom, she sings to you.

“Tel banal ar ama. Vir shiral la ma sa. Bellanaris.”

She comes nearer. Nearer. You wonder what she’s doing and then you realize like a slap to the face that you’re being offered a kiss.

A kiss.

You don’t think. You don’t even try. Your body screams as you bend spine and ribs and shoulder down to her. You’re filthy and bloody. She’s pristine. Gorgeous. She’s everything you aren’t.

She pauses. It’s a breath’s pause, eyes searching yours. And somehow, you know what the question in her’s means. “Do you want this?”

It’s almost hilarious.

You don’t hesitate. For the first time, you don’t. You close your eyes and let the moment wash over you. Perhaps she’ll change her mind in a little while. But for this one slice of time… you’re going to let this one thing be entirely good.

Her lips are everything your longing has has been good enough to remind you. Soft. Gentle. But also this is… so unlike anything you’ve experienced, even with her. It’s not like even the first kiss in the Fade. It’s so terribly tender that your throat tightens and your eyes burn. She’s so very gentle with you.

So you’re gentle back. You turn the Blight on your lips as far from hers as you can. You don’t yank her against you and bury yourself in her as you’d like to. You rub your thumbs over her knuckles. You caress her cheek with your nose. And when she withdraws with an even more angelic smile on her face than before…

You have to smile too. It’s as if her lips have infected your own.

Rook and Morrigan smile at the two of you. You can almost feel it, like the glow of flame. Warmth. You’ve been so cold for so long. You thank Rook. They smile at you, eyes tender. And your heart smiles at them too as you step toward the Veil. Knowing. Grateful.

Standing alone for a moment feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. You almost lurch forward, considering the decision to leave her. To make her stay. But… no. You lack the strength to rip yourself away from her again. It would be cruel to reject her promise but… if it spared her…

Her hand weighs down on your shoulder. I’m here. Let’s go. Vhenan. You can feel the words, as if touch is enough for her to speak to you. Perhaps after sharing dreams for so long, it’s true. You dare not look at her. You might shove her away.

And then you’re passing into the Fade. And you’re not alone. And you feel her hope burst into a flame of unrepentant, inextinguishable joy. Joy because of you. Joy because you never have to be parted again. Joy that you finally, finally chose her after having chosen you so many times.

You could weep and you do, with how you know you’ve made her feel. But when your feet are upon solid ground again and she is surging toward you with a quiet cry of Vhenan… you catch her. You crush her to you and she laughs, sounding like the younger woman you abandoned, and she kisses you and you kiss her because you can’t bear to do anything else. And there’s no pulling away. Even as your knees give out and your body begins to betray the amount of damage you’ve suffered, you hold each other. Her tears mix with your own and your blood and she’s all you know and all you care about. She’s real and she’s here and she is with you.

Your mind stumbles over a cluster of words that reorganize into something coherent and you almost feel disgusted at them. But then… it’s true. You know it is. If it meant her, if it meant being cradled to her even in a prison made of regret and failure and pain… safe and loved and whole, in a terrible place unmade simply because of the person hiding you in the hollow of her body… It was all worth it.

[raindropsonwhiskers]

48 x 48 (ish) pixel art icons of the VtM clans! I'm planning to maybe cross-stitch them all, and I figured I'd put them out here in case people have some use for them

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[theloveinc]

OlderDad!Bakugou who gets a haircut and his baby doesn't recognize him and he doesn't want his dad to pick him up 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bakugou has a cry in the bathroom and you have to spend the rest of the night consoling him.

Also Hiiiiiii, miss u, hope youre gooooood

head in my hands bc of this, just thought abt bakugo growing out his hair a little bit right after baby's birth...takes him months to go and get a real haircut cuz he doesn't wanna burden you more than he already has and by the time he's okay with the thought (but only for "AN HOUR MAX," is what he says), he has a mullet thing going on and all this scruff on his chin🥺🥺🥺

so he gets home with his regular ol' haircut, maybe a little shorter just to account for ... not wanting to go again so soon, and baby's HOLLERING bloody murder as soon as they see him and refusing to be taken out of your arms, doing that thing where they're flipping their face back and forth to dodge a kiss...

it's so tragic bc not even a little cheek nuzzling helps to calm them bc bakugo's CLEAN SHAVEN and smells like aftershave instead of like dad when he tries!!!!!!

and after, you watch him kinda sulk into the bathroom, thinking like aw yeah thats a bummer but also pretty funny, too (esp bc the haircut does look good🫣🤓), AND HE DOESN'T COME OUT FOR LIKE an hour???

....until you finally have to ask him if he's okay in there and you're opening the door to him sitting on the toilet seat, arms crossed and red cheeks a little streaky with tears...

LJFKASDJFADSJK it's the cutest, most sad sight you ever did see!! ofc Bakugo tries to deny it, but the way he tears up again (after you're done assuring him he did nothing wrong) when his baby finally realizes it's him and smiles (and then how he refuses to give them up again until bedtime) has his ass. EXPOSED.

(i love and miss u more than air, earth, water, dirt + HOPE YOU'RE GOOD TOO BESTIE ILY)

[spittingspite]

I'M GOING TO BECOME THE MOST ANNOYING PERSON ON THE PLANET

[elizabethzoopzoop986]

I hate this fucking manga how am I supposed to have a life and write essays about shit when I sit down start to think and all that comes to mind is some gay little toilet freaks istg it’s a hard knock life

[necrotic-nephilim]

au - tim sneaking out of jason's room one night at the manor and accidentally locking eyes with dick who is sneaking out of bruce's room at the exact same time, breakfast is very awkward the next morning

(i did think of having it be jason instead of tim but honestly jason has 0 shame and even less issue outing himself if it means fucking with bruce and, to a lesser extent, dick)

i'm cackling I love these types of things so much. they're so silly. sometimes we deserve mindless crack for these ships. have a *very* low effort ficlet bc this just makes me snort, enjoy <3

Dick closed Bruce's door as quietly as he could. Usually, he didn't have to sneak around when he slept with Bruce. But the temporary room Bruce had given Jason in the manor was just down the hall, and Dick didn't feel like looking Jason in the eye if he walked out of Bruce's bedroom in the morning at the wrong time.

Just because he was pretty sure Jason knew, didn't mean he needed confirmation and confrontation.

Dick had almost caved to staying in bed with Bruce when Bruce tried to pull him back down, but he kept some level of wits about him, prying Bruce's arm off of him and giving him a final kiss on the cheek before heading for the door.

The one thing Dick did allow himself, though, was wearing one of Bruce's shirts instead of his own. It was a size too large on him but smelled safe and comforting. Dick breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the door latched silently. He let go of the handle, turning around to creep off to his own bedroom in another wing.

And found himself staring at another figure.

With all of the lights off and only faint moonlight streaming through the windows, Dick couldn't tell who it was, at first. His reaction was embarrassing no matter who it was, jumping nearly a foot backward and clutching a hand over his chest.

He was a goddamn vigilante. This was just embarrassing.

The other person wasn't nearly as shocked as Dick, but they stood perfectly still, staring with wide eyes that faintly reflected what little light illuminated their face. Dick squinted, leaning forward to see who it was.

"Tim?" Dick hissed, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. Bruce had fallen asleep and if Dick woke him up now, he was never going to get the stubborn bastard back to bed.

Tim, still looking like a deer in headlights, just blinked at Dick.

"What are you doing up this late?" Dick asked. They'd all agreed to take tonight's patrol off, letting Babs, Helena, Dinah, and Zinda handle it in exchange for tackling the massive human trafficking ring in the morning with fresh eyes and cleared heads. The job was the only thing that had gotten Jason to agree to work with them in the first place. Bruce barely managed to strong-arm Jason into sleeping in the manor, with a decent amount of guilting from Alfred.

Jason, who was in the room only a few feet away from Dick. The room that Tim's hand was resting on the doorknob of.

"That's Jason's room," Dick said slowly.

Tim just nodded. "I know." He wasn't whispering like Dick was, but his tone remained impossible to read.

He just saw Dick walk out of Bruce's room. Had he put it together? It was Tim, after all. if he hadn't yet, Dick assumed he only had a couple minutes before it dawned on Tim.

"What were you doing in Jason's room?" Dick frowned. If he focused on Tim, it could keep the focus off of him for as long as possible. Dick tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating.

Tim's expression was hard to make out in the dark. "We were talking about the case." Still, his tone remained entirely neutral.

Too neutral, for Tim.

"At two am?"

"Well, what were you doing?" Tim huffed slightly when he said it, folding his arms over his chest.

He was shirtless, Dick just realized.

Shirtless and coming out of Jason's room.

"I was-" Dick stumbled over his words, choking as he tried to come up with an alibi. "We were talking about the-"

"I already used that excuse, pick your own," Tim deadpanned. Dick was pretty sure he also rolled his eyes. "I've known about you and Bruce for years, you know. You don't have to pretend."

The noise that came out of Dick's throat was almost as mortifying as the realization that not only did Jason likely know, but so did Tim.

"It... okay it has not been years," Dick's face was hot and he was glad it was too dark for Tim to see his blush. "I mean- it's been a while but not years-"

"Whatever you say." Tim shrugged, sounding unconvinced. "There have been feelings between you two for years, close enough for me."

If Dick died, right here, in this hallway in front of Bruce's door, he hoped the cause of death would be put down as homicide instead of natural causes. Because every word from Tim's mouth made another piece of Dick die inside, just a little.

"It's none of your business either way." Dick tried to stand up straight to sound more in control of the situation, clearing his throat.

"Trust me, I don't want it to be my business."

Dick would've laughed, if this was happening to anyone but him.

"What about... you and Jason?" Dick asked carefully.

Tim shifted on his feet. "What about it? I told you, we were talking about the case."

"Right." It was Dick's turn to roll his eyes. "In his bedroom, at two am, without your shirt?"

Tim stared at Dick for a long, torturous moment. A moment that made Dick agree with Tim, about not wanting to know any sordid details.

"I'm going to bed," Tim said suddenly, turning away from Dick. "Goodnight."

Dick had a thousand more questions he wanted to ask. How Tim and Jason even got together, when it happened. Last Dick knew, they could barely stand to be in the same room.

But Tim was walking away at an alarmingly brisk pace and Dick just sighed. He was too tired and mortified about his own secrets to chase Tim down for an impromptu interrogation that would just end up embarrassing them both more.

Maybe it was best for Dick's sanity if he didn't know the specifics.

Dick didn't consider how awkward it would be until he was standing in the kitchen, staring at Jason bent over a cup of coffee.

Did Jason know Dick knew? It didn't seem like he did, but he had always had a good poker face.

When Tim ambled into the kitchen and grabbed overnight oats from the fridge, he didn't even look at Dick. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding it, sitting as far away from Dick as he could at the oversized dining room table.

All while Dick couldn't seem to stop staring.

"Your cereal is going to get soggy," Jason muttered, and it took Dick a moment to realize Jason was talking to him. "At least eat it before trying to explode my head with your mind, or whatever your staring problem is."

"I'm not-" Dick stuttered. he shut himself up with a mouthful of cereal when Cass gave him an odd look.

Would she be able to figure it out just from his body language?

Dick had never fully understood the lengths her ability to read people could go. he looked away from her and stared at a random spot on the table, trying to eat at a normal pace.

Bruce was the last to wander into the kitchen. He squeezed Dick's shoulder as he walked by, making Dick jump. It was an innocent enough touch that no one would question, but all Dick could think about was the brief look from Tim before he quickly averted his eyes again.

The silence around the table was going to eat Dick alive. He started eating cereal faster.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jason broke the tension, throwing his head back and slamming an empty mug down onto the table. "Everyone knows you two are fucking, alright?" He gestured between Dick and Bruce. "Stop being so goddamn weird about it, you're acting like there's a bomb in the room."

Bruce choked on his coffee. "Jason." He tried to sound reprimanding, but his voice was a few octaves too high.

Dick threw his hands in the air. "I knew you knew about that, but I didn't know about you and Tim until last night so excuse me for feeling a little awkward."

"You didn't know about what?" Bruce nearly yelled, spinning around to face Jason.

"Damnit, Dick!" Tim groaned, putting his head in his hands.

Jason just scoffed, pointing a fork at Bruce. "Oh don't even give me that self-righteous bullshit-"

Their argument went back and forth while Tim just rubbed his temples, muttering to himself and glaring at Dick.

Worst of all, Dick was pretty sure Cass was giggling next to him under her covered mouth.

Dick just sighed and ducked his head, dutifully waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

So much for his breakfast.

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

heeyyy gaaanggg

the pose and the background of the album version (left) are based on oingo boingos only a lad album art. not cause i think he has anything to do with it but just cause ive been wantin to draw that pose for like. weeks and i didnt know who to put there. so why not my latest bug man.

[firefangs]

sanlu changed da world i love you sanlu

[voiceofsword]

assorted doodles (+an edit) for a god au friend and i have been rambling about

[mossfeathers]

oh btw im hoping and praying for bigb on a larger 3-4 person team this time around pleas eplease please please pleaseeeeee i NEED to see more dynamics with him. hes just a chill guy. let him commit unspeakable crimes with other horrible people.

[ninyard]

Heyy! You said someone should ask you about Kevin under this post about Kevin's struggles from the nest of which we don't know enough... So I'm asking you about Kevin! Please tell us your Kevin thoughts! You always make very good points and I like reading your thoughts!!

cody my friend I am so glad you asked but you might regret it. i hope you're prepared from an unorganised huge convoluted MESS of a ramble

i've been thinking for a few days about this one like... what would a kevin POV look like? what is he hiding? how does he cope? WHO IS HE?

the kevin we ""know"" is a "coward", an insufferable bitch, an asshole and a hardass. other people's opinions and view of him makes up the entirety of our impression of who he is. but that's not who he is. that's just who we're supposed to believe he is.

kevin, born and bred to have this... borderline psychopathic lack of empathy, who can look his teammates in the eye after being told seth is dead or andrew is being committed and say, "what about the game?"

but when the raven's are switching districts; his sense of danger and fear is paralysing. he's three steps ahead trying to figure out how to please riko, how to keep himself safe, willing to put himself back into the centre of his abuse just to stop riko from finding him and killing him. he has to get blackout drunk to deal with any amount of riko. he's frozen with fear by being in the same room as him.

kevin knows where jean's mind and body goes to when hes panicking, knowing his worst place is right back in the nest being drowned by riko. kevin telling neil "do you know what he'll do to you?" and "he'll break you" when neil asks for his ticket. kevin's text to him before he goes into the nest, and staring at neil like he'd seen a ghost when neil returns after the nest (when he looks like the butcher). his comforting "i know what he's like" or "i know how he sees you, i know it means he did not hold back,".

kevin nervous breakdown panic attack day vs kevin smile for the cameras one track exy mind day

im so intrigued by him. how does he cope? his mother is dead, probably killed by the mafia family he was raised by. he grew up into a cult, he was only a child watching neil's father cut a man into pieces in front of him. how many other's had he seen?

how many other injuries cover his body, in places where the cameras can't see? how many rapes and assaults was he forced to watch in the nest? how many beatings was he forced to participate in? what did he have to say to jean in french that he didn't want riko to hear?

he needs someone with him all the time because of the nest. he's a "health freak" because of the nest. his sleep schedule, his anger, his anxiety.

did he say "what about the season?" re: andrew after drake because he doesn't care, or did he think "i've seen this happen too many times. and they've always kept playing,"? did he think "andrew is the strongest person i know. andrew is stronger than me. he would never let this destroy him," knowing that it has?

nobody has protected him in his life apart from the cameras and andrew.

he's scared. he doesn't know what love is supposed to look like.

he's only been a human for a year.

his scars are healing for the first time in his life and they're not being replaced by new ones, but every day he's afraid that that's going to get ripped out from underneath him. his entire life already got flipped upside down when he left the nest. of course exy is the only thing he "cares" about.

because it's the only thing that's been certain in his life, and even for those few weeks or months where he thought he would never play again, he trained and trained, and learned how to use his non-dominant hand because he can't lose this. he can't lose exy like he's lost everything else.

kevin has never had anything stable in his life except for violence and exy. now he has people he's supposed to care about, and he has to change his priorities. he has to learn how live a life that isn't fueled by self-preservation for the first time ever.

jean was only in the nest for five years; and look at him. look at what the nest has done to his social skills, his view of himself, his self esteem. look at what it's done to him, how he expects violence and contrition, coach and always waiting and waiting and waiting for the punishment to come.

kevin might not have had the same level of physical abuse that jean had, but he was there far longer. the ravens existed before him; their mindset and their abuse and their violence and their poison.

he's been drinking the raven poison since his childhood. the only difference between him and jean other than those things above is that kevin had more pressure to hide it, because he was half of the face of the ravens, half of the face of Exy; media trained or PR trained or a master at being a fraud and faking the way he speaks when he's being recorded.

kevin knows how to hide his abuse because he has always had to, and he's had quite a lot of practice at it.

kevin has only been a human for a year. kevin has only been kevin for a year.

so who is he? does he even know?

or is he just Kevin Day, Raven Fox starting striker, number two, six foot two, left handed right handed left handed, heavy racquet, stick size five? is that all he will ever see himself as?

anyways. or something like that. maybe he is just an insufferable bitch for no reason at all. who knows!